


a helping hand

by military_bluebells



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Tent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:22:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26307763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/military_bluebells/pseuds/military_bluebells
Summary: “Fuck.” Ray muttered under his breath, but it sounded more frustrated than aroused. Then, slightly louder, “I can’t come.”Brad took a deep breath and turned his head to stare at Ray. He was staring down at his sleeping bag, where Brad assumed he had his hand wrapped around his cock. Brad rolled his eyes and stared back up at the roof of their tent.“That’s because you lack technique.” He said plainly.
Relationships: Brad Colbert/Ray Person
Comments: 5
Kudos: 72
Collections: Loose Lips Sink Ships Prompt Meme





	a helping hand

**Author's Note:**

> Loose Lips Sink Ships: Brad/Ray - 'I can't come.' 'That's because you lack technique.' And that's how Brad decided to teach Ray how to perform a superior hand job.

Brad sighed into his sleeping bag and tried not to fidget. The hitched breaths continued undisturbed and every couple of seconds he could heard the slap of skin on skin. Brad spread his legs to relieve some of pressure on his half-hard cock. He just wanted to get some sleep before the manoeuvres at oh five hundred, but the sound of Ray masturbating next to him was not conducive for that. There was a slightly choked moan from the back of Ray’s throat and the slaps – and Ray’s mouth-breathing – sped up. Brad clenched his fist to stop him touching himself: one of them had to be responsible. 

“Fuck.” Ray muttered under his breath, but it sounded more frustrated than aroused. Then, slightly louder, “I can’t come.” 

Brad took a deep breath and turned his head to stare at Ray. He was staring down at his sleeping bag, where Brad assumed he had his hand wrapped around his cock. Brad rolled his eyes and stared back up at the roof of their tent. 

“That’s because you lack technique.” He said plainly. 

“Have you been watching me jerk off? Because that’s super gay, homes.” 

Brad snorted, turning back, “It’s hard not to when you squirm like an eel and have only one volume.” He had trouble keeping a straight face as Ray scowled, his hand still down his pants. 

“I’ll have you know I have a very good indoor voice; I just don’t see why I have to use it, it’s not like Chaffin or Jacks ever do.” 

Brad considered the argument; it was true, he’d had the unpleasant experience of hearing several of his teammates having a combat jack, but he wasn’t going to give Ray the satisfaction of being right, “It’s called consideration Ray, some might even call it compassion, because no one wants to hear you whine like a bitch in heat.” 

Ray grinned, “I’m sure Yasmine would appreciate my very manly sex noises.” Brad snorted and looked back up at the roof. They lapsed into silence, until the sound of skin slapping returned. Brad glanced across and watched Ray bite at his lip as he tried to rub on out again. Brad gave him a minute before he’d give up. Forty-five seconds later, there was a huff and the slapping stopped. 

“Braaad.” Ray whined petulantly. Brad considered his options: he could leave Ray to his pitiful attempts at masturbation – sticking to his own rule about contact when around marines – and have to not only listen to them further but also deal with a frustrated RTO in the morning, or he could educate Ray and get some fucking sleep. Decision made, Brad sat up, unzipping his sleeping bag to his waist. The tent was cold on his bare arms, but he figured he’d warm up in about a minute or so. 

Ray had his arms folded over his eyes, trying to relax but still as tense as he’d been two minutes ago. Brad reached his arm out and shoved at Ray’s shoulder. Ray flopped his arm onto where Brad’s head had been and he furrowed his brows. 

“What Brad?” Ray asked, looking tired and frustrated. 

“You need a better technique Ray.” Ray’s eyebrows furrowed further as Brad twisted so that his hand, now shoved down into his sleeping bag and his pants, was visible. Ray’s eyebrows sprung up and his eyes widened. “I assume you’re trying to jerk off like you’re pulling you dick off.” Brad said, cupping himself under his briefs. Ray watched him avidly as he continued, “Despite what porn might tell you, hard and tight isn’t always the best way. Brad rubbed his thumb along the side of his cock, taking it into his preferred grip. 

“This isn’t a free show Person, I’m educating you.” 

Ray nodded quickly, sitting up and biting his lip again, probably in discomfort. He twisted so that they were sitting side by side, facing each other, their spread legs touching. At this distance, even in the twilight, he could see Ray’s eyes, his pupils indistinguishable from his brown irises. 

“Have a loose grip for now, like the one we use to position the SAW.” Ray nodded, his eyes flicking down to Brad’s waist. He wouldn’t be able to see anything, but Brad’s cock twitched in his hand like he could. 

“Run your thumb over the hand: you need something to ease the way, it’s no good stripping your cock of the skin.” Brad did that, picking up more pre-cum than he’d expected. Ray’s eyes flickered closed for a second, his hips twitching enough for the sleeping bag to move. “Sometimes, it isn’t enough, so you use some spit.” He didn’t need to, but he waited to see if Ray did. 

Ray ducked his head, saying almost shyly, “I’m good.” 

Brad nodded, trying not to smirk, “Tighten your grip, but not so much that you can’t move your cock in and out.” Ray’s tongue peeked out his mouth and Brad tried not to stare. “Now, assuming you have a shred of self-control, _slowly_ rub the slick up and down.” He had to closed his eyes at the feeling, much more intense that usual. When he opened his eyes, Ray was panting, a small crease between his brows. 

“Okay,” Brad said, his voice coming out breathier than he’d intended, “carry on at that pace for a couple of strokes.” Ray’s panting picked up but so far, he wasn’t moaning like a B-rated porn star. Brad was starting to think those were just to annoy him. Brad rocked into his hand, trying to stay slow. He wasn’t far off surprisingly: it always took him a little while to get started, being surrounded by marines, even if one of them was Ray, but in this tent, with Ray’s legs pressed against his knee to his hip, he almost on the edge. 

“I think you have the basics,” Brad said, gripping his base to rein himself in, “if you’re capable of anything more than that, twist your wrist when you come up to the head.” 

“Fuck.” Ray voice’s broke just a little, his eyelids fluttering. Brad gritted his teeth, picking up his pace. Ray’s hips were moving more than enough for Brad to see, and even though he couldn’t see Ray’s cock, he could easily imagine it, red and uncut, Ray’s thin, callous fingers wrapped around it. He wandered if Ray’s hand felt as good around his cock as they did around Brad’s. 

Ray groaned lowly, his eyes snapping open, his mouth opening and closing, “Shit, Brad, I need – I can’t –” Brad nodded, even though the whole reason he hadn’t done the job himself had been an attempt not to break his own fucking rule. Ray leaned forward and Brad closed his eyes, letting Ray’s tongue slip into his mouth. He reached out to grip the back of Ray’s head – luckily Ray had some idea how to kiss – and tilted his head for a better angle. Ray’s moan was muffled by his mouth and his tongue stilled. Brad pulled back to watch Ray’s face as he came. Normally, he’d roll his eyes as the exaggerate O face Ray pulled, but it looked natural and much more appealing. 

He leant forward to rest his head on Brad’s shoulder and Brad tightened his grip, grunting as he spilled into his hand. He rested his head against Ray’s hair as he tried to bring his breathing back under control. Ray’s pants were still fast but levelling out. 

“What happened to the whole no-touching-outside-of-the-house rule?” 

“It wasn’t worth the torture of listening to your pitiful attempts at masturbation.” 

Ray snorted and rubbed his cheek against Brad’s neck like an overly affectionate cat, “You missed me.” He teased. Brad huffed and reached for a wet wipe, passing one to Ray, and they cleaned up in silence. Brad paused and decided one more breach of his rule wouldn’t hurt. He learnt over to press a kiss to Ray’s forehead. When he pulled back, Ray was cross-eyed, staring up at his own forehead. 

“You’ll stay like that.” 

Ray snorted, “Of course you believe in old wives’ tales, you’re just a closeted Jewish grandmother, aren’t you?” 

“I do make a structurally sound Rugelach.” 

“That’s so gay, homes.” 

Brad rose an eyebrow and Ray cackled.


End file.
